The Way We Were
by apiratesmile
Summary: A long lost lover spots Sirius in the train station and muses on the way they use to be.


Just a little something I wrote to help me through my writer's block. Hope you enjoy!

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She would never be able to name what it was that made her turn around that day in the train station. It was a demanding force, urging her attention away from the boisterous conversation of her friend and into the rolling crowd around her. At first she looked over the strangers lazily, their faces meaning nothing to her. Then she saw him. Her eyes felt wide and glassy, unable to see anything but his face.

He had not noticed her, his attention focused on the boy beside him. Had she thought anything less of herself, she would have bounded through the crowd and thrown herself into his warm arms. But pride held her back, as it always had. A smile crossed her lips at this rare moment she had to observe him. He had not changed at all. Certainly, he had grown older. His hair was longer and there was a harder edge to his figure but there was still that humming energy glinting beneath his eyes and flexing within his muscles. There was still a haughty confidence in his walk and in his bearing. It seemed time was helpless against the force that was Sirius Black.

For a moment, she had caught herself wishing he would look up at her but quickly waved the ridiculous thought away. Their encounter would only bring disaster. She could already feel the familiar sense of rage boiling within her and knew that if he so much as looked at her, she would not be able to control it. He had left her! Helpless and defenseless. Ridiculed and pitied. She remembered seeing the thoughts in their eyes as she walked by her peers.

"Poor Estelle", they said.

"Do you think she knew he was a traitor?" they asked themselves with horrified whispers.

"Serves her right," they sneered, "for being so uppity."

At first she hadn't cared. She had gone deaf to the world, lost in her own misery. When Sirius has been taken away, struggling, he took with him all sound, all color—leaving her to walk through life as if she were in a silent film. She remembered sitting at his trial, unable to look into his unfathomably dark eyes for fear he would see her doubt. She had wanted so badly to believe him innocent, but there was too much evidence.

As the dementors took him away, she could feel his eyes on her, bearing down on her, pleading her to look up, but she was a coward. She had stared hard at her hands till she heard the click of the door closing.

What a terrible wife she had been.

There were times, when she lay in their cold bed that she tried to convince herself that they really never had any business marrying each other. It had always been destined to end in disaster. They had both known it. His fiery nature clashed wildly against her cold exterior as they both fought for dominance. She had sworn she would be pushed around by no man and his pride was loathed to compromise. It was an unbalanced, unstable marriage, with passion the only thing holding them together. They kissed with their fists and made love with a temper. They were made for each other simply because they would have destroyed anyone else.

But of course her argument was blown to kingdom come when her mind wandered to his gentle kisses against her neck as he swept into the door, home from work, exhausted but his eyes filled with a hungry excitement. Oh how she wanted to be young again. She wished for the things to be the way they were. To turn around and be caught up in his arms, her clothes torn away, her body sensitive to every passionate touch. She tried to remind herself of their fights, as equally passionate and destructive as their lovemaking.

"You worthless dog," she had howled, flinging the closest thing in reach at his head. He patiently dodged it, making no retaliation. This only served to fan her flame of anger. "You ungrateful bastard. You faithless coward!"

He cleared his throat and leaned casually against the wall, giving him the appearance of haughty boredom. His eyes gave the only sign that she was trying his limited patience, narrowing into a blackness that forbade any glint of light.

"Are you quite finished?" He asked his voice dangerously low.

"Not even close," she snarled.

"You're impossible," he growled turning to leave, his patience for her theatrics clearly at an end.

"You don't get to walk away from me, Sirius," she snapped, arming herself with another plate. "Not after what you've done."

He glanced warily at the plate in her hand and then sighed, the entire conversation seeming to be beneath him now.

"You're being irrational," he said his tone almost dead. Her eyes had narrowed and her skin had felt like someone struck a match to it. How dare he…

"Fine," she said setting down the plate. Her face became unreadable. Smooth as porcelain and just as cold. "Then just tell me her name."

He gave a harsh laugh that sounded like a bark. "You first."

She took a step back in surprise and his eyes had turned sharp and focused as he readied himself for the kill. "Do you think I'm blind, Estelle? You don't think I know what's going on in my own house?"

"How could you," she snapped now in defense. "You're never in it long enough!"

"Apparently I don't have to be," he snarled, his self-control long forgotten. "Everyone and their mother know about you and him."

At first the sound of the hurt in his voice was like a blow to her chest. She felt cruel and dirty, a worthless woman who had no business loving such a man. But then she remembered and the hurt turned into a cold pleasure. So he knew. Good. Now he would know how she had felt, how her heart had been ripped, torn and stomped upon by his actions. Now her pain would be his.

"You don't know him," she smirked despite her lips feeling so heavy. "I'm afraid he doesn't really travel around in your circles."

For a moment, Sirius had looked practically feral but in an instant he was calm and collected, a master of the sick little game they played with each other.

"Well I don't generally associate with gits," he said, giving a smile as equally fake.

"Could have fooled me."

"Now you're being petty," he said mockingly.

"You still haven't told me her name."

"Does it matter?"

"No," she said, trying to keep her tone distant. "But I do hope you still remember it, because now you're stuck with her."

His dead eyes suddenly took on a new shine, sensing the bluff in her voice. They would kick and push each other till one or both of them were dead but they would never leave each other. It was an inconceivable thought.

"I'll do my best to remember," he said, his voice nonchalant. "But I'm sure you know how difficult it is to keep names straight, don't you darling?"

She had glared at him so hard it had given her a headache. How dare he mock her.

"Do you ever let my name slip?" he asked innocently. "You know, when you're doing the deed."

"Hardly," she lied, giving him a cruel smile. "I barely think of you at all."

"I shouldn't be surprised," he said casually, although his muscles had gone tense. "I wouldn't think we would really compare."

"No, of course not," she agreed matching his biting sarcasm. "It would be rather difficult for you to measure up."

"Really," he said, bridging the gap between them with unnatural speed. Her heart paused for a moment as her mind whirled over their closeness. She felt his hot breath against her skin and all her rage and self-control dropped to the floor, to settle on her clothes. They had always been passionate with each other but this was more forceful and more demanding. With each kiss, they took from each other the part that was rightfully theirs and—

She blinked and the memory ended but the ache in her fingers remained as she stared at his untamable black curls. What she would give to run her fingers through them one more time, but it was impossible. She had made it impossible. The moment she sent him the divorce papers was the moment she lost any right to him at all. She had given up on him and the papers only made it official. She had had to wait a few weeks but the papers had been returned crumpled and torn but signed. He had given up fighting for her too.

In the end, the world had taken the fight out of them. They had both been left beaten with no way to get up. She had watched as her spirit was taken away, to be locked up in a cell where at any moment his soul could be stolen away. She had found no reason to live any longer within a society that had left her so broken. So for years she lived in a self-imposed exile from the Wizarding world, until one day an unnamable force pulled her back and turned her head that day in the train station.


End file.
